


Definition Of Guilt

by Elfbert



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-28
Updated: 2006-02-28
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8073298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfbert/pseuds/Elfbert
Summary: Lieutenant Reed is charged with destruction of property and murder. (04/29/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Been bugging me since I saw 2.04 "Dead Stop." Had to be written. Oh, and it's me first one, hope you like it.  
  
Beta: The wonderful SueC.  


* * *

'I don't know, Cap'n.' I release the comm button and lean against the wall, glad of the breather as I wait for Jon's response.

'Well, T'Pol and Malcolm assure me that there's nothing on the sensors. Whatever happened must be internal, Trip.'

And 'internal' means my problem. I flick the comm. switch back on, 'Tucker to Reed.'

'Yes Commander?' answers the clipped British accent.

'Any joys down there, Lieutenant?' I don't know why I'm asking; I think it's more an excuse to check my lover's still okay than anything else.

'No. It looks like weapons fire, it felt like weapons fire...' I know what's coming next, 'But it can't have been. There must be some malfunction we've overlooked. We'll keep working on it. Reed out.'

I turn back to survey Engineering. The warp drive is quiet, which makes the whole place a little bit creepy-like having a monolithic corpse in the middle of the room. At least we didn't suffer any real damage down here though. The armoury didn't get off so lightly—not that I've had a chance to go and check it out yet. And Mal's right, everything points to Enterprise having been attacked, except the lack of attacker.

My people seem to have everything covered here for now, so I decide it's time to go and check out the rest of the ship-starting with the armoury.

* * *

As I approach the dark grey doors I notice the first signs that something's badly wrong. Smoke is hanging in the air and the doors are propped open with metal poles. I step into the room and take in the chaos. Every panel and console is smoking and blackened. Crewmembers are trying to re-stack torpedoes on the wall-racks whilst others tackle still-smouldering plastic and metal. I cough, the fumes biting my throat. Then I see the most important thing-Mal.

His uniform is blackened, as is his face. The heat from the fires means he has his uniform sleeves tied around his waist, baring his blue Starfleet issue t-shirt-God knows where his shirt's gone to. Almost every crewmember is in a similar state of undress, and all are sweating and dirty.

I pick my way over the debris-strewn floor. 'Lieutenant?'

He turns, fatigue evident in every line of his body. 'Sir-we have no functioning weapons, and...' he sighs, 'And we won't have for the foreseeable future. The damage is extensive. If we work around the clock we're still looking at days, if not weeks,' he looks up at me and shakes his head, 'I have no idea what happened, Trip, and I don't like it.'

Neither do I. An unseen enemy or massive breakdown-neither is exactly appealing. 'Anything I can do here?' I ask, not sure what I'm really offering.

'Tell me where to start?' A smile ghosts over Mal's lips as he turns to look over his domain. 'I'm not even sure we carry enough spares-we need almost an entire refit.'

'I'm on my way up t' the bridge. I'll tell the Cap'n.'

Mal nods, wipes a dirty hand over his sweat-slicked face and through his hair, 'When you're free, I suppose we could use all the help we could get,' he smiles a weak smile, testament to the sorry state we're in.

* * *

I reach the bridge without incident, for some reason it wasn't targeted, despite being so tactically important. And I realise I'm still thinking that this was an attack, even though there's no evidence. Jon's sitting on the edge of the command chair, staring at the still view screen. Seems odd, not seeing the stars blurring past.

He turns to me as I step out of the turbolift, 'Trip, how are things down there?'

I shrug, 'Warp drive won't be online for at least a few hours. Malcolm says it'll be more like days until weapons systems are running, if he can do it at all with our resources.'

Jon nods, lips pursed.

'Still no clues as to what happened?' I ask, knowing that I'd've been told already if there were.

'Nothing. It's as if...as if we've been attacked by some invisible enemy.'

My hands clench slightly on the metal rail I'm leaning against. 'Ya think it could be the Suliban?'

'We have activated the sensor array and detected nothing, Commander,' T'Pol says from her console, 'I think it highly unlikely that it is the work of the Suliban.'

I turn to back to Jon, who shrugs, 'T'Pol's right, Trip, it's not their style. They'd be hailing us, rubbing our faces in it, boarding the ship, not just leaving us here, dead in the water.'

'Unless they got somethin' else up their sleeve,' I mutter, darkly. T'Pol looks at me quizzically. 'It's a human expression,' I explain, 'It means...'

'I am perfectly aware of what it means, Commander. I was wondering if you were going to hypothesise what tactics they might employ.'

I shake my head, 'I don't have a clue.'

The comm beeps on Jon's chair. 'Archer,' he answers.

'Sir, there's something happening, in the armoury,' the crewman sounds panicked. 'It's Lieutenant Reed, sir, something's...got him.'

And a horrible cold feeling crawls up my back, giving me goosebumps. 'Got him'. What exactly does that mean?

'I'm on my way,' Jon stands and calls, 'You have the bridge,' to T'Pol. Then we're both in the turbolift, heading for the armoury.

I don't quite know what I expect to see-marauding aliens, fighting, weapons fire-but not what does greet us. No one is moving; the crew are just staring at the centre of the room. And lying on the floor is Mal, kind of crumpled, lying on one side, a leg folded underneath him, one arm outstretched. I can't believe they're all just standing and staring.

'Help him! Don't just stand...' as I kneel and reach out to him one of the men calls to me.

'Sir, no, there's...'

And I get a sharp shock up my arm and a blue screen buzzes angrily then disappears. A force field.

I hear Jon asking, 'What happened?' But I don't take my eyes off Mal. I'm glad he's still half out of his uniform, as I can clearly see his chest rising and falling. He's alive. I just wish I could touch him.

'I don't know, sir, there was a flash, like an energy weapon. By the time any of us reached the lieutenant. he was already, I mean, the containment field, force field, we couldn't do anything, sir.'

Jon kneels next to me, looking into my eyes with concern, 'Is there anything we can do, Trip?'

'I...there's nothing to do anything to, cap'n. If there was a field generator, then maybe...' How do you fight an enemy that doesn't exist?

* * *

I begin to make cautious investigations into the perimeter of the field-a task that takes a few minutes, and the shocks I get don't improve my mood any. We roughly mark the perimeter with tools and debris, in an attempt to avoid anyone accidentally hitting it. When we're nearly done Mal groans. He slowly lifts a hand to his head.

'Jesus Christ,' he opens an eye. 'What happened?'

'Just be real careful, Lieutenant, there's some sorta force field around you,' I warn, fighting the instinct to try and help him up.

He sits up and immediately shocks his left arm.

'Bugger.' He rubs the limb and looks at me through dozy eyes. 'What's going on? What hit me?'

'We don't know. How're you feelin'?' Before he gets the chance to answer a female voice startles us all.

'Lieutenant Malcolm Reed of Earth, you are charged with destruction of property and murder. How do you plead?' Everyone turns to look at Mal. He looks at me and Jon.

Jon's the first one to pull himself together, 'Who are you, and what do you want with my officer?'

'Your inquiry was not recognised,' answers the voice.

'Let Lieutenant Reed go.'

Jon's looking at the ceiling-I suppose it's as good a place as any, but it gives the impression that he's appealing to the heavens. I glance at Mal, and realise he's staring at me, eyes wide. I give a half-smile, 'Don't worry, we'll have all this sorted in a second,' I drawl. Even to me it sounds false.

'Commander, could you, um, could you get all these crewmembers out?' he asks quietly. I frown a little, wondering why he'd want that, but figure that he probably has something up his sleeve. 'Sure, of course.'

I gently usher the repair crews out, leaving just Mal, Jon and me. 'You got a plan?' I ask Mal, who's sitting with his arms around his knees.

'Not exactly,' he answers. 'More of a question.'

'What's up, Malcolm?' Jon carefully sits close, wary of the force field.

'Well...'

He's cut off by the voice. 'Lieutenant Malcolm Reed of Earth, you are charged with destruction of property and murder. How do you plead?' The emotionless computer-drone reminds me of something, but I can't pin down what.

'He's innocent!' I yell, irritated.

'Trip, wait,' he looks down at his knees, then back up to Jon. 'Captain, I'm not entirely sure I am innocent.'

'What?' I shake my head, sure I've gone mad, 'Mal! Of course y'are.' My indignation means I use my pet name for him, even though I know he hates being called it in front of anyone.

'What do you mean, Malcolm?' Jon asks, frowning.

'Sir, think about it. I'm your armoury officer. How many times have you heard me referred to as a purveyor of death and destruction? Just think about it.'

'Folk joke about it, Malcolm, doesn't mean we believe it,' I say, not liking this train of thought.

'We might joke, Commander, but I can assure you, if someone has survived being on the other end of a torpedo, they're not going to be laughing,' he looks into my eyes, 'I've killed more sentient beings than I can count.'

Before I have a chance to react-even think about how to react, the voice is back. 'Your plea is entered as 'guilty'.'

'No!' I shout, 'No, we didn't say that, he didn't say that...'

Mal stands up, wiping his palms on his dirty uniform, 'I think that's exactly what we said, Commander.' He's gone back to using ranks, a sure sign he's trying to keep his emotions in check.

'What happens now?' Jon asks, also standing.

Before any of us get a chance to guess the comm. sounds, 'T'Pol to Archer.'

Jon strides to the wall unit, 'Yes?'

'Captain, we have lost helm control.' 'What? How?'

'I do not know, Captain. It appears that the main computer is no longer under our control.'

'I'm on my way.'

* * *

Once he's gone I turn back to Mal, who's reaching out a finger to touch the force field. It fizzes as his finger makes contact. 'Fascinating,' Mal says.

I guess it's typical. Whatever situation we find ourselves in, Mal's capacity to be amazed by new technology never wavers. I ask, 'What's fascinatin'?' It's better than sitting in silence.

'The field somehow reacts to the amount of force being exerted on it. If you touch it gently it hardly shocks at all.' He beckons me over, somehow the wonder shows through in his eyes. 'Now very gently try and touch my finger.'

He holds his finger still, causing an almost ripple-like effect in the field. I hesitantly reach out and discover he's right. Our fingers touch. Somehow this gives me a massive lift. We stand there, looking like a pair of bizarre mime-artists until Mal breaks the contact. He turns his back to me, and moves away the foot or two that his prison allows. 'I think I know who...what it is.'

'What? Who? I mean...what?' I manage, ineloquently.

'That voice. It's the same as on the repair station, after the Romulan minefield.'

And he's absolutely right. It's the same voice, the same computer. 'But, but we destroyed it.'

'Destroyed it and murdered all the beings that powered it,' he turns back to face me. 'Except we didn't quite finish the job.'

My legs go weak. This can't be real. I reach for the wall and blindly flick the comm switch. 'Tucker to Archer.'

'Trip? Something happened?'

'Cap'n, Malcolm thinks he knows who it is.'

'Well?' I can hear the irritation in his voice.

'The station, cap'n, the repair station we destroyed. What if we didn't, I mean, what if it wasn't destroyed?'

The silence tells me everything I need to know. Finally Jon's voice comes back, sounding strained, even over the comm. 'Trip, we're being taken somewhere. We don't have any control.'

And those five words sum it up. We don't have any control. Hell, right now, it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference if Mal was walking round like the rest of us, we're all in the same boat. Or on the same starship. 'Cap'n-you saw that place, I'm not sure there's anything we could do anyway. It's capabilities...'

'I know, Trip, I know.' I hear him sigh, 'If we come up with anything you'll be informed. Meanwhile, well, see what you can do with that force field.'

The comm clicks off. I don't want to turn to Mal again, I know he'll have heard every word, and, if possible, his situation is that bit more hopeless than the rest of ours.

'Trip.'

'Yeah.'

'Come here.'

I comply, barely lifting my eyes from the ground.

'Love, look at me,' he pauses, 'we beat it before, we can do it again.'

I finally look up. There's a look in his eyes, pleading me not to give up. 'We didn't though, did we? We didn't beat it, 'cause it's back, and it's got you. Got us.' I can't help but let the emotion into my voice.

He holds his hand up to the force field again, and once I've mirrored his action and our palms are touching he smiles, 'I'm meant to be the pessimist in this relationship.'

I laugh, well, it's a kind of choking laugh, but it's that or cry, just now.

* * *

By the time the ship's artificial night has fallen we've got no further with our problem. We're being dragged through space, nothing to tell us where we might end up. Mal is still in his incongruous jail, we've tried all sorts of things to free him-one attempt leaving him unconscious for five minutes. He's not complaining, but it's got to be pretty uncomfortable. The space is maybe four feet wide by seven long, he can lie down okay, but not much else. In typical Mal style he's carefully placed all the debris that had littered the floor into a neat stack in one corner. We've tried to get things through the field, but nothing has worked. We can touch, although Mal explained that we weren't really touching, it's just that the energy barrier is so thin that we can't feel it.

We've been sitting in silence for some time. He's told me to go and get some sleep, but I can't, not with him like this. I did leave to get food earlier-at first I intended to take it right back to the armoury to eat, but Hoshi pointed out that it wouldn't be much fun for Mal to watch me tuck into my dinner when he must be half starved. He's fiddling with a padd that he had in his pocket when he was trapped, and seems quite intent.

'Hey,' I say, catching his attention.

'Mmm?' He barely looks up.

'You all right?'

He pauses, as if thinking about it. 'Yes. Given the current situation.'

'What ya doing?'

'I think you might be able to transmit data to me from the scanners through the field, if I just make some modifications to this padd.'

'Mal, we've got everyone working on the data we scanned, even T'Pol! What d'you think you can do that the rest of us can't?'

He throws the padd to the floor. 'Well what else do you suggest, Trip! You think I should just sit on my arse in here doing nothing except contemplate what's going to happen to me at the end of this little adventure?'

I guess he's got a point.

'How 'bout we all try and get some sleep, huh? Probably need our energy later.'

He glares at me for a second, but then breaks the eye contact and looks around him at the hard floor. 'I suppose so,' then he looks at me, 'But you go and drag a mattress and blanket in-there's no point us both having an uncomfortable night.'

I do as he says, and when I return he's lying on his back, fingers linked over his chest. I arrange my bedding on the floor and flop down on it. 'G'night, Mal.'

'Good night.'

The gamma shift works quietly around us. Mal insisted they continue with the repairs, in case the Enterprise needs to defend herself. I imagine the sight of two of their superior officers having an impromptu slumber party in the middle of the Armoury must be quite amusing.

I know he doesn't sleep much. Every time I look over at him I can see the light glinting off of his eyes. I guess I wouldn't sleep too well with a charge of murder hanging over me, either.

It concerns me that he thinks he could be guilty. I always thought it was just part of the job, I suppose. I guess it never really occurred to me that Mal might carry guilt for all the people he's killed in defending us. He never talks about it-but then, he wouldn't. As much as he's opened up to me in the time we've been together I know there are still things he keeps to himself.

Sometime in the early hours I half-wake, and when I look toward Mal I realise he's standing up. I half wake 'Mal? Wassup?' I push myself up onto my elbow.

'I think we might've stopped,' he says

I jump up and head to the comm, but Jon runs through the door before I reach it. He looks a bit like I feel.

'Trip, Malcolm, we've stopped and are orbiting a small planet.'

I turn to at Mal just in time to see a look of fear pass across his face before he brings back his mask of calm detachment. The armoury seems to waver, then fade out. I realise I've been transported and look around quickly. I'm standing in a stark stone room, Jon and I are at the open end of a horse-shoe shape, Mal is in the middle of it. Sitting around the curve are about twelve beings with dark greenish skin.

The bland computer voice states, 'Lieutenant Malcolm Reed of Earth, charged with murder and destruction of property. The defendant has pleaded guilty'

'Hang on just a damn minute,' Jon takes a step forward and is immediately stopped by the now-familiar blue wall of the force field.

'You will have your chance to speak.' I'm not sure which of the beings said it-hell, I'm not sure where their mouths are. Jon stops and returns to my side. Mal turns and looks at us, and I think I can see pleading in his eyes.

The computer voice goes on to describe the events of the day we destroyed the repair station. Mal stands completely still, his back to Jon and me and his head bowed. The voice finally stops, leaving the room silent for a moment. Then the being in the middle of the line inclines his head.

'And now, you may take the opportunity to give your opinion of events, Captain Archer.'

'What about Lieutenant Reed, doesn't he get a chance to defend himself?' Jon asks.

'The defendant will speak last,' the being states.

'Firstly, Lieutenant Reed didn't plead guilty. We were having a discussion, from which that-computer, inferred guilt.'

'Your objection is noted.'

'Well, things happened pretty much like you heard,' he looks at me, but there's nothing I can do to make our destruction of the station sound any better. 'We docked at the station, badly needing repairs. We were asked to give 200 litres of warp plasma in payment for all the repairs. We did that. We were not told that one of our crew would be killed...'

He's interrupted by the computer voice, 'The human Travis Mayweather was not killed. He was assimilated, for the good of all races.'

'Well, forgive us if we didn't quite see it like that,' I can tell Jon's trying to hold back his temper, 'But hooking up our helmsman to your computer system and replacing his body with some sort of replica was not part of the deal.'

'He was assimilated for the good of all races.'

Jon shakes his head, 'Once we rescued our crewman we were not allowed to leave. The grappler arms on the station wouldn't release my vessel. Lieutenant Reed was working under my command when we destroyed the station. If anyone should be on trial it should be me.'

Another of the judges, or whoever they are, lifts it's head. 'Why is this man not on trial, as Captain?'

There's a slight pause, then some sort of holographic scene appears in mid-air. It's Jon, Mal and me in Jon's office. Sound kicks in, and I'm speaking.

'It was my idea, sir.'

And Jon responds with 'I think Malcolm is old enough to make his own decisions.'

Then the scene pauses before disappearing.

The judge who asked the question nods, 'The evidence is taken.' I can't believe it. They've used his own words against him. One sentence taken out of context. 'Do you have anything to add?' the alien asks.

Jon looks at me, desperation written on his face. I can't think of anything else to say. Mal remains still, the plain back of his dirty uniform giving away nothing.

'Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. Speak.'

Mal looks up. 'I don't understand what I'm on trial for,' he states, sounding a hell of a lot calmer than I feel. 'Lieutenant Malcolm Reed of Earth, you are...'

Mal interrupts, 'Yes, murder and the destruction of property. I don't understand how you came to lay these charges.'

'Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, you have heard the story told from both sides. Indeed, you lived through the events. Of what are you unsure?' One of the aliens asks.

'I'm not sure whom I'm meant to have killed.'

'There were 48 beings assimilated into the station,' the computer states.

'And their bodies were destroyed?' Mal asks.

'Correct.'

'But they were assimilated. Their consciousness', such as was left by the station after assimilation, live on. I didn't destroy that, my very presence here is testament to that fact. And yes, I did destroy parts of the repair station, but only to free the Enterprise and her crew, as is my duty. And, if I'm not mistaken, it has now been completely repaired'

There's a lot of discussion going on around the room, Mal's words obviously getting reaction. I have a bizarre sense of pride in him, my chest tightening with the feeling. I even chance a grin at Jon, who tentatively smiles back.

After a short while all the alien judges stand. 'Lieutenant Malcolm Reed of Earth, we find you not guilty. You are free to go...'

The room shimmers out of view and I land back in the armoury, turning to Jon I smile, 'Thank God for...' There's a look on his face I don't like, and I slowly turn to where his gaze is pointing, to where Mal should be. But isn't.

'No. No! Mal?' I look around in disbelief. Just when I thought we were safe.

Jon runs to the comm. 'T'Pol, what's happening, where's Malcolm? Scan the area and the planet.'

The silence seems to stretch forever before T'Pol's calm voice sounds. 'Captain, there are no human bio signs in the area or on the planet surface.'

'No,' I shake my head. 'No, scan again, he's got to be there, he has to be.'

'I can assure you Commander, he is not.'

She's just too calm, too emotionless and it makes me angrier. I turn on Jon. 'You have to do somethin', cap'n, we can't just leave Mal.'

'Trip, Trip!' Jon grabs my arm. 'No one is leaving anyone anywhere. Calm down. I think we should both get to the bridge, there's nothing we can do here.'

As the turbolift doors open onto the bridge Hoshi is gesturing. 'Sir, we're being hailed, I can't pinpoint the source.'

'Put it through, Ensign.' Jon walks to the centre of the bridge.

A disembodied voice says, 'Starship Enterprise, Captain Archer, we apologise. We have your Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. We will transport him to your location. We must advise you that he is damaged. We are sorry for this, he was taken without our consent.' I think I recognise it as the alien that declared Mal not guilty in the court.

I swallow. I don't want my Mal to be damaged.

The shimmer of a transporter appears on the bridge, just in front of Jon. I'm there before Mal has completely appeared. He's sitting, left leg out straight, the other tucked under him, and he's holding his blue T-shirt to his thigh. His hands and forearms are covered in blood.

'Hoshi, get Phlox up here, now,' Jon snaps out.

I fall to my knees next to my lover and grab him, finally able to touch him again. 'What did those bastards do to you?'

'Nothing. It was me.' He holds out a sharp piece of metal that I think he must have picked up from the armoury. 'It was how the computer locked onto me-us. They implanted something into me when the station healed my leg.' He uses me to push himself up to standing. I hold him close, my arm around his waist. He smiles a small appreciative gesture and puts an arm around my shoulders.

'Malcolm, wait, Phlox is coming. Sit down.' I grab his arm.

'No. Got to get rid of this,' he holds up a tiny blood-covered piece of metal. 'Help me.'

Despite how ridiculous we'll look-the chief engineer and a half-naked, blood covered armoury officer-I help him. 'They wanted to take me, like they took Travis. Start the new station.' He winces as he puts weight on his leg, and I hold him more tightly, taking the opportunity to kiss his forehead, now that we're alone. He smiles and rests against me, our bodies close.

We go down a couple of decks and Mal virtually drags me to the airlock. He throws in the metal device, seals the inner door and evacuates the lock. I think I see the tiny thing shoot out into the wide expanse of space.

Mal turns to me, smiling. 'We're free again-at last,' then slides down the wall into a crumpled heap on the floor as he passes out.

* * *

A day later he tells me he'd rather have taken his chances with the repair station than stay in sickbay with Phlox one more minute. Eventually he's allowed out on crutches with strict instructions not to do anything strenuous for another week and a half.

Two days later he's back in Sickbay with the captain and Phlox, having a full scale argument on how strenuous refitting a phase cannon is. I'm not sure Mal won, but he certainly annoyed Phlox enough to get discharged into my care.

Three days later I'm getting a dressing down from the captain and Phlox because Jon found Mal replacing power couplings in the armoury.

Four days later I'm pleading with Phlox to take Mal back, sedate him and strap him to a bio-bed.

Five days later Mal is grinning like a Cheshire cat because he's been given full medical discharge-four days early.


End file.
